Chicken Run/Transcript
The chickens are trying to stealthily escape the farm at night. Bunty: Shush! Bunty: I'm stuck! Ginger: Get back! Mrs Tweedy: Mr Tweedy. What is that chicken doing outside the fence? Mr Tweedy: Oh! Haha, I don't know love, I- Mrs Tweedy: Just deal with it. Now. Mr Tweedy: I'll teach you to make a fool out of me. Mr Tweedy: '''Now let that be a lesson to the lot of you! No chicken escapes from Tweedy's farm! ''One morning after a failed escape attempt the previous night.'' '''Babs: Morning, Ginger. Back from holiday? Ginger: I wasn't on holiday Babs, I was in solitary confinement. Babs: Oh, it's nice to get a bit of time to yourself isn't it? Fowler: Roll call! Come along there, you'll be late for parade! Pip, pip. Quick march. Left, right, left, right, left, right... Come on! Smarten up! Bunty: Ow! Fowler: Disclipine! Order! Back in my RAF days when the senior officer called for a scramble, you;d hop in the old crate and tally-ho! Chocks away! Bunty: Give over you old fool, they just want to count us. Fowler: H-How dare you talk back to a senior ranking officer? Why back in my RAF days... Ginger: Fowler, they're coming. Back in line! Fowler: Oh, alright. There'll be a stern reprimand for you lad, you're grounded. Fowler: Atten-TION! Mac: Welcome back, hen. Is there a new plan? Mac: I thought we tried going under? Ah, over. Right. Ginger: How's the egg count? Bunty: I've laid five eggs this morning, FIVE! Well chuffed with that, I was- Fowler: SHUSH! Ginger: Oh no... Edwina! Bunty, why didn't you give her some of yours? Bunty: I would have-- she didn't tell me! She didn't tell anyone! Babs: Ooh, is Edwina off on holiday? Ginger: We've got to get out of here... Mac: Ginger! Are we still on? Ginger: Oh, we're on alright. Spread the word Mac: Meeting tonight in Hut 17. At the same night, the chickens huddle together to conduct a new escape plan. Nick: You called. Nick and- Fetcher: Fetcher. Nick: At your service. Ginger: Over here. '' '''Ginger:' We need some more things. Nick: Right you are, Miss. How about this quality hand-crafted tea-set? Ginger: Uh, no- Fetcher: Or this lovely necklace and pendant? Ginger: It's lov- Nick: Or this beautiful little number. All the rage in the fashionable chicken coops of Paris. Simply pop it on like so, and as the French hens say: Voila! Fetcher: That is French. Nick: That's two hats in one, Miss. For parties-- for weddings. Oh, Madame, this makes you look like a vision, like a dream! Fetcher: Like a duck. Ginger: No, thank you. We're making this; we need these things. Can you get them? Nick: Oof, this is a big job, Miss. Oh, bigger than the others, oh no no... this is gonna cost. Ginger: Same as always; one bag of seed. Nick: You call this pay? Fetcher: It's chicken feed. Ginger: What else could we give you? Nick: Eggs. Ginger: Eggs?! Fetcher: Eggs! Ginger: We can't give you our eggs, they're too valuable! Nick: And so are we. After you, Fetcher. Fetcher: ...After I what? Nick: Move! Fetcher: Wooah! Inside the Tweedys' house; Mr Tweedy is growing suspicious of the chickens. Mrs Tweedy: mumbling -nine shillings and thruppence... seven and six pence times three... two and nine... four pence ha'penny... Mrs Tweedy: Doh! Stupid, worthless creatures! I'm sick and tired of making minuscule profits. Mr Tweedy: Ohh, yes. Those chickens are up to something... Mrs Tweedy: Quiet. I'm onto something. Mr Tweedy: They're organised, I know it. Mrs Tweedy: I said quiet. Mr Tweedy: That ginger one... I reckon she's their leader... Mrs Tweedy: MR TWEEDY! I may finally have found a way to make us some real money around here, and what are you on about? Ridiculous notions of escaping chickens! Mr Tweedy: B-But- Mrs Tweedy: It's all in your head, Mr Tweedy. Say it. Mr Tweedy: It's all in my head, it's all in my head... Mrs Tweedy: Now you keep telling yourself that, because I don't want to hear another word about it. Is that clear? Mr Tweedy: Yes, love... but you know that Ginger one- Mrs Tweedy: They're chickens, you DOLT. Apart from you they're the most stupid creatures on this planet. They don't plot, they don't scheme, and they are not ORGANISED! The chickens meet together inside Hut 17. Ginger: Order! Order! Quiet, everyone! Settle down. I would like to call to order the big- oh.... Please, if you could just- Fowler: Quiet there! Let's have some discipline in the ranks, what what! Ginger: Thank you, Fowler- Fowler: In my RAF days we were never allowed to waste time with unnecessary chit-chat. Ginger: Yes thank you, Fowler. Fowler: I... Right. *ahem* Carry on. Ginger: Now, I know our last escape attempt was a bit of a fiasco. But Mac and I have come up with a brand new plan. Show 'em, Mac. Mac: Right, we tried going under the wire and that didn't work. So, the plan is: We go over it. This is us, right? We get in like this, wind her up...and let her go! Chickens: *Screaming* Fowler: Good grief! The turnip's bought it! Ducky: Farmer's coming! Fowler: Operation Cover-up! Mrs Tweedy: MR TWEEDY! Mr Tweedy: Ouch- Mrs Tweedy: WHERE ARE YOU? Mr Tweedy: It's all in your head, It's all in your head, it's all in your head... Ginger: Think everyone think. What haven't we tried yet? Bunty: We haven't tried not trying to escape. Babs: Hmm, that might work! Ginger: What about Edwina? How many more empty nests will it take? Bunty: Well perhaps it wouldn't be empty if she'd spent more time laying and less time escaping. Ginger: So laying eggs all your life and then getting plucked, stuffed, and roasted is good enough for you is it? Babs: It's a living. Ginger: You know what the problem is? The fences aren't just 'round the farm, they're up here- in your heads. There's... a better place out there, somewhere beyond that hill and... well it has wide-open spaces and lots of trees and grass. Can you imagine that cool, green grass... Ducky: Who feeds us? Ginger: We feed ourselves. Agnes: Well, where's the farm? Ginger: There is no farm. Babs: Then... where does the farmer live? Ginger: There is no farmer, Babs. Babs: Is he on holiday? Ginger: He isn't anywhere. Don't you get it? There's no morning egg-count, no farmers, no dogs and coops and keys and no fences! Bunty: In all my life, I've never heard such a fantastic... load of TRIPE! Bunty: Oh face the facts, ducks. The chances of us getting out of here are a million to one. Ginger: ...Then there's still a chance. Fowler: Ouch! Ginger steps out of the hut and breaks down in tears, slowly losing hope. She then meets someone who eventually turns her life around. Ginger: *in tears* Oh no, oh no, oh no... what am I doing... Who're you trying to fool, you can't lead these bunch of- Grr... Heaven help us... Rocky: *screaming in the distance* FREEDOM!!! Ginger: *laughing* Rocky: *falling and hitting a bunch of stuff* OOF! WAAAGH!!! WOOAH! Rocky: Thank you ladies & gentlemen, you've been a wonderful audience... Chickens: Ouch! By'eck! Ginger: That's it! Get him inside, quickly. Inside the hut, meeting Rocky Ginger: This is our way out of here. Babs: We'll make posters? Ginger: *sighs* What's on the poster, Babs? What's on the poster? We'll fly out! Babs: He must be very important to have his picture taken. What do you suppose he does? Bunty: Well isn't it obvious? He's a professional flying rooster. He flies from farm to farm giving demonstrations. Babs: Do you suppose? Bunty: Oh, absolutely. Rocky: *muttering to himself* Ugh, no, no not in there... no get out, g-gotta get, AH-! Rocky: AHH! Who're you? Where am I? What's going on- Ouch! What happened to my wing...? Ginger: You took a rather nasty fall. Mac: And sprained the interior tendon connecting your radius to your humerus. I gave her a wee bit of a tweak Jimmy and wrapped her up. Rocky: ...Was that English? Ginger: She said you sprained your wing; she fixed it. Babs: And I made the bandage! Bunty: I- I carried you in! Chickens: *all excitedly talking at once* Rocky: Woah, woah, woah! Haha... let's back up and start from the top. Where am I? Ginger: You're right, how rude of us... we- we're just very exci- uh... This is a chicken farm. Babs: And we're the chickens. Rocky: Yeah I'm with you so far. Chicken farm, chickens... Fowler: I don't like the look of this one. His eyes are too close together. Ginger: Fowler, please- Fowler: And he's a Yank! Rocky: Easy pops. Cockfighting's illegal where I come from. Bunty: And where is that exactly? Rocky: Oh, just a little place I call the land of the free, and the home of the brave... Mac: Scotland! Rocky: No! America! Chickens: Oooh! America! Fowler: POPPYCOCK! Pushy Americans, always showing up late for every war. Overpaid, oversexed, and over here! Rocky: Hey, what's eating Grandpa? Ginger: Oh, don't mind him, Mr... Mr? Rocky: The name's Rocky. Rocky the Rhode Island Red, Rhodes for short. Agnes: Rocky Rhodes...? Rocky: Catchy, ain't it? Ginger: Um, Mr Rhodes? Is this you? Rocky: Uh... who wants to know? Ginger: A group of rather desperate chickens. You see, if it is you, then you just might be the answer to our prayers. Chickens: *giggling with anticipation* Rocky: Well then call me a miracle doll-face, 'cause that's me. Chickens: *cheering* Background chicken: And what brings you to England, Mr Rhodes? Rocky: Why... all the beautiful English chicks, of course. Bunty: Give over! Rocky: You see I'm a traveler by nature. I did that whole barnyard thing for a while but I couldn't really get into it. Hi, how are ya. Nope! The open road, that's more my style. Yep... Just give me a pack on my back and point me where the wind blows. Rocky: In fact, you know what they call me back home? You're gonna love this: The Lone Free-Ranger. Isn't that great? Chickens: Oooh! Ginger: I knew it was possible... Rocky: Oh, it's possible alright. Ginger: I knew the answer would come. Rocky: Amen! Ginger: We're all going to fly over that fence, and Mr Rhodes is going to show us how! Right? Rocky: That's... w- wait, what? Did you say... fly? Ginger: You could teach us! Rocky: ...No I can't. Listen, shh. You hear that? That's the open road calling my name and I was born to answer that call. Bye. Babs: He must have very good hearing. Rocky tries to avoid Ginger outside, but is then hunted for by his previous owner. Rocky: Oh-kay, okay, where's the exit...er, this way. Ginger: Mr Rhodes? Um... perhaps I didn't explain our situation properly? We lay eggs, day in and day out; and when we can't lay anymore... they kill us. Rocky: It's a cruel world, doll-face. Might as well get used to it. Ginger: Which part of 'they kill us' do you not understand? Rocky: Hey, I got my own set of problems to worry about. Besides this bird-cage can't be that hard to bust out of. In fact, watch me. Ginger: I-It's not so hard to get one chicken out of here, or even two. But this is about all of us. Rocky: ...All of you? Ginger: That's what I've been trying to tell you. Rocky: Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You wanna get every chicken in this place out of here at the SAME TIME?! Ginger: Of course. Rocky: You're certifiable! You can't pull off a stunt like that, that's suicide! Ginger: Where there's a will, there's a way. Rocky: Couldn't agree more, and I will be leaving that way. Ginger: But, Mr Rhodes, please- Rocky: *singing to himself* Ohh, I'm the type of guy... that likes to roam around... I'm never in one place... Rocky: *gasp* Ginger: So that's it, you're from the circus! Rocky: ''Shhh!!!'' Ginger: You're on the run, aren't you? Rocky: You wanna keep it down?! I'm trying to lay low here! Ginger: I should turn you in right now. Rocky: You wouldn't... would you? Ginger: Give me one reason why I shouldn't. Rocky: Because I'm... cute? Ginger: BRAAWWWK!!! Rocky: Hey, hey, hey- what kind of crazy chick are you?! Do you know what'll happen if he finds me?! Ginger: It's a cruel world. Rocky: I just decided, I don't like you. Ginger: I just decided, I don't care. Now show us how to fly. Rocky: With this wing? Ginger: Teach us then! Rocky: No! Ginger: BRAAWWWK!!! Mrs Tweedy: He's... valuable, you say? Circus Man: Sure. Mrs Tweedy: Get the torch. Rocky: Now you listen here sister, I'm not going back to that life. I'm a lone-free ranger. Emphasis on 'free'. Ginger: And that's what we want, freedom! Rocky: *gasp* Ginger: Fancy that. They're coming this way. Rocky: Oh- Oh no! Oh no, they're onto me! Ginger: Teach us to fly and we'll hide you. Rocky: And if I don't? Ginger: BRAAWW-'' '''Rocky:' Was your father by any chance, a VULTURE?! Ginger: Do we have a deal? Rocky: Woah-! Rocky: Time to make good on that deal, doll- Ginger: The name, is Ginger. Rocky: WAGH! Inside the hut, where Rocky is hidden in a box. Ginger: Comfortable? Rocky: Not... really... Ginger: Maybe this'll help. Rocky: Ugh... nice hideout. Ouch! I had more room in my egg... Ginger: We've held up our end of the deal, tomorrow you hold up yours. Rocky: What deal? Ginger: The flying! Rocky: Oh yeah, right right right. Don't worry, I'll teach you everything I know. Now... which bunk is mine? Chickens: *all excitedly talking at once* Rocky bunking with Fowler in his hut. Fowler: Absolutely OUTRAGEOUS! Asking a senior officer to share his quarters; and with a non-commissioned Yank no less! Ergh, why back in my day I'd never- Rocky: HEY! You weren't exactly my first-choice either. And scoot over! Your wing's on my side of the bunk. Fowler: YOUR side of the bunk? The whole bunk is my side of the bunk! Rocky: Just-! ...What's that smell? Is that your breath...? Fowler: Absolutely outrageous... The next morning, Rocky gathers the hens together for 'flight training'. Rocky: So... you wanna fly, huh? Well it ain't gonna be easy and it ain't gonna happen overnight either. Y'see flying takes three things: Hard work, perseverance, and... hard work. Fowler: You said 'hard work' twice! Rocky: That's because it takes twice as much work as perseverance. Fowler: CODSWALLOP! Cocky Yanks think they know it all... Rocky: Now the most important thing is, we have to work as a team. Chickens: *collectively agreeing* Rocky: Which means... you do everything I tell you. Chickens: *collectively agreeing* Rocky: Right, let's rock n' roll! Flight training montage. Rocky: Ow, ooh, ooh... Chickens: Ow, ooh, ooh... Rocky: Ah-! Rocky: Ehehe... Mr Tweedy: Mrs Tweedy! The chickens are- Mr Tweedy: -pecking? Rocky: And left, two, three and right, two, three... aaand stop right there. Oh yeah, down. Yeah, make little circles. That's it, faster. Ah yes, perfect. Ah, that's the spot. Ahhh... Ginger: A-hem. ''I thought you were going to teach us how to fly. '''Rocky:' That's what I'm doing. Ginger: Isn't there usually some flapping involved? Rocky: Hey. Do I tell you how to lay eggs? Relax, we're making progress. Ginger: Really? I can't help the feeling we've been going around in circles. Rocky: What the- Hey! Cut it out! You're making me dizzy. Yeah, I think they're ready to fly now. Ginger: Good, because they certainly can't walk anymore. Rocky: Up and at 'em gals! Let's flap. Nick: Watch, Fetcher. Let's see if old 'Attila the Hen' has come to her senses. Chickens: *scream as they all fall out the sky* Fetcher: It's raining hen! Nick and Fetcher: Woahhh-! Nick: What's this caper, love? Babs: We're flying! Nick: Obviously. Flippin' hell. Look at this! Fetcher: They're gonna kill themselves... Wanna watch? Nick: ...Yeah, all right. Nick and Fetcher: Oooh! Ahh! Nick: Oi! Careful of those eggs! Sunny side up! Fetcher: Now they're over easy! Nick: Definitely scrambled. Rocky: Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Nick: Poultry in motion! Fetcher: Birds of a feather flop together! Chickens: *scream as they fall over eachother* After the training. A large mysterious truck arrives at the farm. Rocky: Great work, ladies, great work! But the pain you're feeling is a good thing, it's good. Pain is your friend, okay? It's a positive thing. Just keep the faith there, uh, what was your name? Agnes, Agnes. You'll get there. Ducky, I think you flew four feet today! Nick: Right, yeah, four feet... from the roof to the ground! Hahaha! Rocky: All part of the process, ladies, nothing to worry about! You cheesy little... Rocky: Woah, that doesn't sound good, hahaha... okay, the ground's shaking. A-Are we worried? Are we worried? Rocky: *gasp* The circus! Quick, hide me! Hide me! Ginger: Come on! Ginger hides Rocky in Fowler's hut. Fowler: One isn't awarded a medal like this for flapping about like a lunatic... S-See here! This is an officer's quarters! Ginger: Quick, in here! Fowler: Get out of here immediately! Rocky: Oh, give it a rest, pops... Fowler: Why get out of here! I shall have you on a charge within the week! [Scene: The Tweedys unloading the huge truck.} Mr Tweedy: Cheers, mate. Chickens: *whistling as they hide their binoculars away* Mr Tweedy: It's all in your head. It's all in your head... It's all in your head. Mr Tweedy: Ooh... what's all this, then? Mrs Tweedy: This is our future, Mr Tweedy. No more wasting time with petty egg collecting and minuscule profits- Mr Tweedy: No more eggs?! But we've always been egg farmers; my father and his father, and all their fathers! They was always... Mrs Tweedy: Poor. Worthless. Nothings. But all that's about to change... This will take Tweedy's farm out of the Dark Ages and into full-scale automated production. Mrs Tweedy: Melisha Tweedy will be poor no longer. Mr Tweedy: I'll put it together then, shall I? Ginger: This isn't good, Mac. Whatever's in those boxes is for us and I don't think it's softer hay. Mac: Aye, hen. And I hate to be the voice of doom, but I've been calculating my figures and I just don't think we're built for flying. Ginger: But I saw him. He flew in over that fence! Mac: Aye, I- I believe you but... if we could see it for ourselves, that might answer some questions. Ginger: *sigh* You're right, I'm sorry. We've been at this all week and we're getting nowhere. If his wing were better, he could... oh. I'll have a word with him. Ginger goes to Fowler's hut to look for Rocky. Ginger: Wh-? Where is he? Fowler: They didn't give me this medal for being a Yank nanny. Ginger: A simple 'I don't know' would suffice. Fowler: Beware of that one, young Ginger. That Yank is not to be trusted. Ginger: That 'Yank' is our ticket out of here. Ginger finds Rocky chatting with the other hens in a hut. Rocky: -And the pig says to the horse, "Hey, fella, why the long face?" *laughs* Chickens: *laughing* Rocky: Oh! Look, look, look... Cocktail! *laughs* Bunty: Give over! Rocky: Ah. So, erm, anyway... Remember those flying tips. They're very important. And uh... keep thinking those flighty thoughts. Rocky: They're swell chicks, they really are. And look at what Babs made me; a beak warmer! Isn't that the cutest? And that Bunty, she really packs a pun... Is there a problem? Ginger: Have we flown over that fence? Rocky: Not quite. Ginger: Then there's a problem. Rocky: Hey, good things come to those who wait, doll-face. Ginger: GINGER. Ginger tells Rocky off outside. Rocky: Wheew! Ginger: Okay. How long did it take you? Rocky: To do what? Ginger: To learn how to fly. Rocky: Apples and oranges, baby-doll. I'm gifted, they're not; you can't compare the two, okay? Point is, these things take time. Ginger: Ugh, which we are rapidly running out of, and we haven't even lifted off the ground. Why? Mac: Thrust! Rocky: What-? Mac: I went over my calculations, hen, and I figured the key element we're missing is thrust! Rocky: ...I- I didn't get a word of that. Mac: Thrust! Other birds like ducks and geese when they take off, what do they have? Thrust! Rocky: I swear she ain't using real words. Ginger: *sigh* She said we need more thrust. Rocky: Oh! Thrust. Well of course we need thrust. Thrust and flying are like... like... well like this: that's flying and that's thrust. Ginger: ...Would you excuse us? Mac: Aye. Rocky: Aah! The wing, the wing, the wing... Ginger: If we don't see some results by tomorrow, the deal is off and you're on your own. No more hiding, the farmers will find you, and it's back to the circus, fly-boy. Rocky: You know... you're the first chick I ever met with the shell still on? Sleep tight, angel-face. The Rock's on the case. *click* Ginger: GINGER! Rocky: ...Phew. Rocky negotiating with Nick and Fetcher outside Fowler: COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!! Ginger: Hm? Nick: We slipped into the farmer's room all quiet like- Fetcher: Like a fish. Nick: Yeah, and we... like a fish? ...''You stupid norbert. '''Nick:' Anyway guv' here it is, el-merchanidiso. Fetcher: That's Spanish. Ginger: What are these two crooks doing here? Rocky: So you know each other? Fetcher: She don't think we're valuable. Rocky: Guys you are, without a doubt, the sneakiest, most light-fingered thieving parasites I've ever met. Nick: Oh, don't don't, stop it... Fetcher: I've gone bright red. Nick: So, uh, how about them eggs? Ginger: Eggs?! Don't tell me you promised them- Rocky: Yup. Promised them every egg I lay this month. Nick: And, uh... when can we expect the first installment? Rocky: I-I'm brewing one up as we speak guys, I'll keep you posted. Nick: ...Pleasure doing business with you, sir! Nick: Sucker. Rocky: What? Ginger: You lied to them. Rocky: I didn't lie, dollface. I just... omitted certain truths. I'll give 'em exactly what I promised. Ginger: Which is nothing. Rocky: Which is what I'll give them. Ginger: And what will you give us? Rocky: Thrrrrust! The hens test out the new catapult. Rocky: You okay, sweetheart? Rocky: Now this is just a little helper. Something that'll get you going; it's a thrust exercise. Fetcher: The tension's killing me! Nick: It's gonna kill her! Rocky: Re-lease! Ginger: Come on! Flap! ''You can do it! Flap, flap, flap! Yes, yes, yes!'' Nick: Is that your first of-FENCE? Nick & Fetcher: *yelling* Rocky: Oops, ahaha... Babs: Roll-call! I haven't laid any eggs! Rocky: Hide me. Babs: Three days and not one. Oh no...! Ginger: Why didn't you tell us, Babs? Rocky: Hide me! Babs: We've been so busy w-with the flying and the... Rocky: Hide me!!! Ginger: Hide yourself! Mrs Tweedy: *sniggers* Double their food rations, Mr Tweedy. I want them all as fat as this one. Babs: Oh... all my life flashed before my eyes... It was really boring. Babs: Chicken feed! My favourite. Ginger: Wait, wait- hang on- Chickens: *fighting over chicken feed* Ginger: Babs, please! Stop it, wait! Stop- STOP IT! Ginger: Something is wrong here, can't you see that? Strange boxes arrive in the barn, Babs stops laying but they don't take her to the chop, and now they're giving us extra food. Ginger: Don't you see what's happening? They're fattening us up. They're going to kill us all. Chickens: *gulp* Rocky: Woah, woah! Heavy alert, ahaha. She didn't mean that, girls. Ginger: Do you mind- Rocky: Keep eating, save some for me. Ginger: What are you doing-?! How dare you! Let go of me- Rocky: Listen! I've met some hard-boiled eggs in my day but I'd say you're about twenty minutes! Ginger: And what's that supposed to mean? Rocky: It means you gotta lighten up. You see over in America we have this rule: If you wanna motivate someone, don't mention death! Ginger: Haha, funny. Over here, the rule is always tell the truth! Rocky: Oh, hey, that's been working like a real charm hasn't it? Rocky: Here's some free advice. You want them to perform? Tell them what they want to hear. Ginger: You mean lie. Rocky: *sigh* Here we go again. You know what you're problem is? You're... difficult. Ginger: Why? Because I'm honest? I care about what happens to them. Something I wouldn't expect a lone free-ranger to know anything about. Rocky: Hey if this is the way you show it, I hope you never care about me. Ginger: I can assure you, I never will. Rocky: Good! Ginger: Fine! Inside the hut, Rocky hosts a party for the hens. Ginger: What's all this? Nick: Well here she is; ask and ye shall receive. Fetcher: That's biblical. Nick: It's real craftmanship is what it is. Solid as a rock. Fetcher: Ooh! It's supposed to do that. Rocky: It's perfect, guys. Nick: How's that egg coming? Rocky: This... is a double-yolker. Ginger: I don't see what this has to do with- Rocky: You will. We've been working too hard, time to kick back and shake those tail-feathers! Bunty: Look at him! Nelly-podging around like a... ooh, what's happening? Rocky: That's called a beat, sister! Feel it pulsing through your body. Bunty: Ooh yes. Pulsing. Fancy that! Rocky: Hey, hey, well then go with it baby! Bunty: Oh, my. I'm going with it! Babs: Bunty! What's got into you? Bunty: Same thing's that got into into you, apparently! Rocky: Just go with the flow, girl! Let it go! Babs: Wooo!!! Fowler: Now see here! I don't recall authorising a hop. Bunty: Oh, shut up and dance. Fowler: Woah! Fetcher: *whimpering* Nick: What are you sobbing about, you nancy? Fetcher: Little moments like this, mate. It's what makes the job all worthwhile! Fetcher: ...Wanna dance? Nick: ...Yeah, alright. Babs: Hee hee! Did you see that?! I flew! Rocky: Atta-girl, Babsy. Atta-girl. Ginger: Oh! Your wing! It's better! Rocky: Well, how about that. Ginger: Fantastic! You can fly for us tomorrow. Rocky: Uh.. Yeah... so it seems... Babs: I flew! I flew! Ginger: I owe you an apology. I didn't think you cared about us. But after all this, well. It seems I was wrong. Rocky: Hey, easy Miss Hard-Boiled. I might think you're turning soft. Rocky: Uh, listen... there's something I gotta tell you. I- Ginger: N-No. You'd better wait here. Inside the barn, revealing the pie machine Mr Tweedy: Ooh, that's champion that is. What is it? Mrs Tweedy: It's a pie machine, you idiot. Chickens go in, pies come out. Mr Tweedy: Ooh, what kind of pies? Mrs Tweedy: Apple. Mr Tweedy: My favourite! Mrs Tweedy: CHICKEN pies, you great lummox. Mrs Tweedy: Imagine; in less than a fortnight, every grocer in the county will be stocked box upon box of "Mrs Tweedy's Homemade Chicken Pies". Mr Tweedy: Just... "Mrs"? Mrs Tweedy: Woman's touch. Makes the public feel more comfortable. Mr Tweedy: Oh, right... how does it work- Mrs Tweedy: Get me a chicken and I'll show you. Mr Tweedy: I know just the one... Mr Tweedy goes outside and fetches Ginger to put into the machine Mr Tweedy: I've got a score to settle with you. Babs: Blummin' 'eck! They've got Ginger! Bunty: We musn't panic! We musn't panic! Chickens: *screaming* Fowler: QUIET, I SAY! Let's have some discipline, what what! The enemy has taken a prisoner, this calls for retaliation... REEE-TALIATION, I SAY! Rocky: Hey, hey, hey-! What's going on?! Babs: They've got Ginger, Mr Rhodes. They're taking her to the chop! Fowler: Well what are you waiting for, laddie? Fly over there, save her! Rocky: Of course! No-! No... that's- That's just what they'd expect. But I say we give them the ol' element of surprise. Fowler: And catch Jerry with his trousers down, haha. I like the sound of that, what's the plan? Rocky: The plan! The plan... uh- Babs, give me that thing. Bunty, give me a boost. Inside the barn, Rocky is about to save Ginger from the machine Rocky: Woah... look at the size of that thing... Rocky: Oh no! Mr Tweedy: Chickens go in... pies come out... Mr Tweedy: Chicken pies! Not- not apple pies. Chicken. Ginger: Oh, great. Brilliant. Rocky: Yo! Baby-doll! Ginger: Rocky! Rocky: I'm coming! Ginger: Hurry! Rocky: ...I'm still coming! Ginger: Come on... stop this thing! Rocky: I'm getting there! Oh, shoot-! Inside the machine Ginger: ROCKYYY!!! Rocky: I'll be down before you can say... MIXED VEGETABLES-?! Rocky: DOH-! Get it? Dough? Ginger: I'm stuck! Rocky: Nothing to it. Rocky: Hang on-! Ginger: Look out! Rocky: Hey! A-ha! Rocky: Woo. It's like an oven in here. Ginger: Come on! Rocky: Wait up, I got you. Don't leave! Get over to the- Ginger: The door, come on! Rocky: She's gonna blow! RUN! Outside the machine Mrs Tweedy: Huh-? WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU GREAT PUDDING? Mr Tweedy: I didn't do 'owt! Mrs Tweedy: Turn it off! Mr Tweedy: It won't turn off! Rocky: Ouch! Ginger: We've got to show the others, come on. Mr Tweedy: Look! I've fixed it! Back in the hut Bunty: Chicken pies?! Ginger: Yes, but- Babs: I don't want to be a pie! I don't like gravy. Ginger: Ladies, please. Let's not lose our heads. Bunty: Lose our heads?! Ginger: I meant to say that Rocky sabotaged the machine and bought us more time. And better still, he's going to fly for us tomorrow. And once we've seen how it's done, we'll get it. I know we will. So don't worry because tomorrow everything's going to go much, much smoother. Inside Fowler's hut Rocky: Ah-! Alright pops, what did I do now. Fowler: A brave and honourable deed, sir. In light of your... action this evening, I dutifully admit that I have misjudged your character. I present you with this medal for bravery. And I salute you. Fowler: In honour of the occasion, I surrender the bunk entirely. I shall sleep under the stars, haha. I await tomorrow's flying demonstration with great anticipation. Rocky: You and me both, pops... Up on the roof Rocky: Oh-! Ginger: I'm sorry- Rocky: Was this your...? I'll get down- Ginger: No, it's just...well, uh... Rocky: No, I'm glad I- Ginger: Since you're here I'll just- I'm sorry- Rocky: You go ahead I'll just- Ginger: I just wanted to say... I may have been a bit harsh at first. Well, what I really mean is, thank you. For saving my life. For saving our lives. Ginger: You know, I come up here every night and look out to that hill and just imagine what it must be like on the other side. It's funny I've... I've never actually felt grass beneath my feet. Ginger: I'm sorry. Here I am rambling on about hills and grass and you had something you wanted to say. Rocky: Uh... yeah. Um... it's just that... you know... life, as I've experienced it, you know, lone free-ranging and stuff, it's uh... full of disappointments. Ginger: You mean grass isn't all it's cracked up to be? Rocky: Grass! Exactly, grass. It's always greener on the other side, and then you get there and... it's brown and prickly. You see... what I'm trying to say...? Rocky: What I'm trying to say... is...*sigh* you're welcome. Ginger: '''You know... that hill is looking closer tonight than it ever has before. '''Ginger: Well, good night Rocky. Rocky: Good night... Ginger. Next morning, the hens are preparing for Rocky's flight lesson. Fowler: COMPANY! ATTEEE-NTION! Ginger: Well, today's the day girls! We're going to fly, I can feel it! Chickens: Ooh! Bunty: Finally we get to see a real professional in action. Ginger: Better start warming up. I'll go get him. Ginger: Rocky, knock-knock! Everyone's waiting so I told them to- Ginger: R- Rocky..? Mac: Ooh, a cannon. Aye that would give you thrust. Bunty: I knew he was fake all along. In fact, I'm not even certain he was American. Mac: So... what's the next plan, hen? Ginger: *sigh* Let's face it. The only way out of here... is wrapped in pastry. Babs: Perhaps he just went on holiday. Bunty: Perhaps he just wanted to get away for your infernal knitting! Mac: Well you were the one that was always hitting him. See how you like it. Bunty: Don't push me, four-eyes! Bunty and Mac: *yelling* Fowler: Quiet there! QUIET, I SAY! Dissension in the ranks, precisely what Jerry would've wanted. The old "divide & conquer". A proper squadron works together, just like we did in our RAF days. Jocko at the stick, flappy at the map, the old whizzbang at the tail end Charlie, Wing Co would give the call, hop in the old crate, chocks away! That's how you get medals. Bunty: Oh, will you shut up about your stupid, blummin' MEDALS! Fowler: How dare you! Fowler: ...Madam, forgive me, a- as an officer I offer my most- Ginger: Fowler? Ginger: Everyone, SHUT UP! Ginger: *ahem* Fowler, what exactly is the RAF? Fowler: What do you mean "what is it"? The Royal Air Force is what! Ginger: Then... what's the "old crate"? Inside the hut, looking through Fowler's old crate Fowler: Ah... there she is. Gorgeous isn't she? Ginger: You mean you flew? In one of these? Fowler: Beautifully built. In fact, there's a bit of a story to that as well. Ginger: Yes... of course... we might actually be able to pull this off. Ginger: We're still going to fly out here. Fowler: What, what? Ginger: Fowler's provided the answer. Fowler: I have? Uh, oh yes, yes- of course I have! ...Uh, how have I? Ginger: We'll make.. a crate! Montage of the hens building the crate Ginger: Mac, you'll handle the engineering. Babs, manufacturing. Fowler will be chief aviation adviser. Bunty, eggs. Nick: Eggs?! Ginger: Eggs. Nick: Right, just like the ones that rooster was gonna lay. Only roosters don't lay eggs, do they. Fetcher: Don't they? Nick: No, it's a lady thing apparently. Ask your Mum. Ginger: One egg for every item on the list. First payment in advance. Nick & Fetcher: Right, when do we start?! Nick: Come on! Nick & Fetcher stealing tools from the barn Mr Tweedy: Huh? What the dickens? Oh, gnomes now... Nick: Voila! Montage continues Nick: Eggs from heaven! Fetcher: No! From her bum! Mrs Tweedy: Idiot! Mr Tweedy: Ow-! Ginger: That was close... too close. Ginger: We can't stop now, come on everyone! Go for it, really go for it! Go, go, go, go! Mac, we need those calculations quick. Agnes, that has to be really secure. Careful up there, Fowler! Fowler: Roger. Ginger: Bunty, give him a hand. Well done, Babs. Keep it up! Babs: No problem, doll-face. Rocky is riding is tricycle away from the farm Rocky: *singing* Oh... I'm the type of guy, that likes to roam around... I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town! And when I find myself falling for some girl, I hop right in the-'' '''Rocky: '''Oh, boy. 'Back at the barn, the pie machine is up and running again' '''Mr Tweedy:' Come on... please... *gasp* Ginger: Oh no, he's fixed it! Mr Tweedy: Hahaha! Mrs Tweedy: Get the chickens. Mr Tweedy: Which ones? Mrs Tweedy: ALL of them. Mr Tweedy: My tools! Why, you thieving little buggers! Mac: What's the plan? Ginger: ATTACK!!! Mr Tweedy: Huh-?! Bunty: Nice plan! Mr Tweedy: MRS TWEEDY!!! AAAAGH! MRS TWEEDY! THE CHICKENS ARE REVOLTING!!! Mrs Tweedy: Finally something we agree on. Mr Tweedy: HELP!!! Ginger: Under the hut. Babs: What have we done?! Ginger: This is it, everyone. We're escaping. Mac: What, now? Ginger: NOW. Mac: But Ginger, she's not ready, we need- Ginger: Listen. We either die free chickens, or die trying. Chickens: *cheering* Babs: Are those the only choices? Ginger: Let's do it! Fowler: Scramble!!! Mr Tweedy: MRS TWEEDY!! Inside the crate Nick: The exits are located here, and here. In the quite likely event of an emergency, put your head between your knees and- Fetcher: -Kiss your bum goodbye. Ginger: Alright Fowler, ready for take-off! Fowler: Behind you all the way. Ginger: But- you're supposed to be up there! You're the pilot! Fowler: Oh, don't be ridiculous. I can't fly this contraption. Ginger: Back in your day; th- the Royal Air Force! Fowler: 644 Squadron, poultry division. We were the mascots. Ginger: You mean you never actually flew the plane? Fowler: Good heavens, no! I'm a chicken! Chickens: *gasp* Fowler: The Royal Air Force doesn't let chickens behind the controls of a complex aircraft. Chicken: We're all gonna die! Ginger: Fowler, you have to fly it. You're always talking about back in your day, well today is your day! Bunty: You can do it, you old sausage. Fowler: Wing Commander, T.I Fowler, reporting for duty. Chickens: *cheering* Fowler: Well, come on! What are you waiting for? We haven't got all day. Let's get this crate off the ground. The crate prepares to take-off Ginger: Fowler, now! Fowler: Roger. Contact! ''Clear for take-off. Chocks away! '''Chickens:' Chocks away! Fowler: Full throttle! Mac: Full throttle! Fowler: We need more power! Mac: I cannnot work miracles, Captain! We're giving her all she's got! Mr Tweedy: Gotcha! Fowler: HARD RIGHT! Mr Tweedy: Ooh, mother- Ginger: Turn her around, I'll get the ramp. Mrs Tweedy: Put the ramp DOWN. You are going to be a pie! Rocky: GINGER!!! Ginger: Rocky!!! Fowler: Look out! Rocky: Ginger! Let's go! Chicken: We're flying!!! Rocky: AH-! Ginger: That's for leaving. Ginger: And this... is for coming back. Fowler: Great Scot, what was that?! Mac: A cling-on, Captain! The engines can't take it! Ginger: Oh my goodness... Babs, scissors! Babs: Bingo! Ginger: Lower me down. Rocky: But, Ginger- Ginger: Just do it! Fowler: Increase velocity! Babs: What does that mean? Bunty: It means pedal your flipping giblets out! Ginger: Lower! Rocky: I'm trying! Ginger: Fowler, look out! Rocky: Ginger! Rocky: Fire! Fire! Fetcher: Oh, my eggs... Ginger: No! Rocky: More ammo, hurry! Nick: We've got no more eggs! Rocky: Ginger! Look out! Rocky: NOOO!!!! Ginger: Bye, bye. Fowler: Bombs away! Mrs Tweedy: AHHH!!! MR TWEEDY!!! Chickens: *cheering* Rocky: Oh, that was good. That was good! Fowler: The old bird bought it! Hahaha! Back at the barn, Mrs Tweedy gets stuck in the pie machine that is about to explode Mr Tweedy: Mrs Tweedy! Mrs Twee- Mrs Tweedy: AHHH!!! Mr Tweedy: I told you they were organised. The chickens celebrate their success Ginger: We did it, everyone!!! Chickens: *cheering* Fowler: Keep pedalling! We're not there yet! You can't see paradise if you don't pedal. At the new Chiken (Chicken) Sanctuary Fowler: ...Put your drumsticks into it. Nyeee-ow... That's what I told them, what what. We were losing altitude you see, and heading for fearful prang. Babs: This is a lovely holiday. I'll be sad to go back. Mac: Safety at all times is imperative. Now, wind her up... and let her go! Rocky: So, is it as good as you imagined? Ginger: No... it's better. Come on, I'll show you how to play cricket. Nick: Alright, alright. Here's a thought: why don't we get an egg and start our own chicken farm? That way we could have all the eggs we can eat. Fetcher: Right, we'll need a chicken then. Nick: No, no, we need an egg. You'll have the egg first, that's where you get the chicken from/ Fetcher: No, that's cobblers. If you don't have a chicken, where are you going to get an egg? Nick: Out from the chicken, that comes from the egg. Fetcher: Yeah, but you have to have an egg to have a chicken. Nick: Yeah, you're going to get the chicken first and get the egg and... the chicken out of it... Fetcher: Hang on. Let's go over this again? During the credits Nick: The egg obviously! Rolling along, happy as Larry, then CRACK! Hatches into the first chicken. Fetcher: Yeah, but where'd the egg come from ''then. '''Nick:' What do you mean "where it comes from"? Fetcher: Egg comes rolling along, happy as Larry, it's wondering... "where'd it come from?". Without a chicken, you get no egg to come rolling along. Nick: Well, conversely, without an egg to hatch into the chicken, there will be no chicken to lay the other egg that hatches into the chicken that lays the egg I mentioned in the first place! Fetcher: So we got two eggs now? Nick: No, we're still talking about the very first egg. Fetcher, Yeah, but what happened about the very first chicken? Nick: He's in the very first egg; aren't you listening? Rocky: Uh, guys, guys... trying to enjoy paradise over here. Nick: Oh, sorry guv'. Fetcher: Beg your pardon. Nick: Won't happen again! Rocky: Thanks. Nick: Gitface. Fetcher: Pillock. Nick: Think he's such a big-shot 'cause he's got his name on a poster. Showbiz folk are all the same. Fetcher: The rats are the stars. Nick: Yeah they are, of course they are. We do all the hard work! Fetcher: He does get all the birds. Nick: He gets all the credit! Fetcher: He gets everything, doesn't he. Nick: Yes he does. Everything. Fetcher: You said it, mate. Nick: I know. Category:Films